Ravage with Impunity - A Rose
by Skitz-phenom
Summary: Beauty and the Beast - what happens after 'happily ever after'... Not a cutesy, 'disney-esque ' story... Dark.


Ravage with Impunity a Rose  
  
By Skitz_phenom  
  
Rating: R for non-descriptive sex and implied bestiality.  
  
Summary: Based on the original tellings of Beauty and the Beast (not the Disney version). It's an 'after Happily Every After' kind of story. I've always wondered how Beauty might have felt when the beast finally changed back to a man... After all, she managed to fall in love with the Beast. Also - the reason for the Prince being turned into a beast has to do with his heartless nature. How much has being a beast really changed him.   
  
Feedback: Would love some :) Skitz_phenom@Yahoo.com  
  
  
  
  
A chalky moon ascended through the milky twilight and it's pale shadow fell upon Beauty as she gazed out over the manicured castle grounds. The moonlight cast an eerie pall to her already pallid skin. She watched as the distinct moonlit shapes and colors of the fountain and rose bushes grew muddled in the dimming light; blurring and joining until no particular shape could be discerned from the dark gray on darker black of the courtyard. The evening breeze, heavily perfumed by the fragrant roses, rustled with fragile whispers through the garden and trees.  
  
A forlorn sigh slipped past her full, sanguine lips and she leaned her head against the cool, dark stone of the castle wall. Its well-worn surface cupped her cheek, and she closed her eyes to the dusky luminescence of the evening. A night mistral teased her hair and tugged a delicately embroidered shawl from her bare shoulders before it whisked out to rejoin the night air. Goosebumps rose on the bare skin of her neck and back from the chill, but she made no move to replace the wrap. A second sigh echoed the first, and hung in the air for a moment before it faded into the night's solitude.  
  
Suddenly footsteps, forceful and harsh against the stillness, approached from behind. The steps grew closer, and the dull clack of leather on marble echoed strangely in the tranquility. Beauty remembered how those same steps had sounded long ago. They were quiet then, almost intangible but for the tick of untrimmed claws scraping lightly against the marble tile. A tiny scratching almost lost amid the rustling of tattered garments and shaggy fur. The memory of that earlier approach made the sound of the feet currently advancing even more intrusive. The footsteps stopped close behind her but she did not turn.   
  
She inhaled sharply, and waited for the familiar musky odor to assail her nostrils, yet knew it never would. She cringed instead as a cloying smell of cologne wafted past her. He stood silently, unmoving. Beauty could feel the weight of his presence as he stood behind her and mirrored her gaze. For a moment, when he reached out and rested his large hands on her cold-numbed shoulders, she thought she could almost feel the velvet soft pads, the tickle of downy fur and the barest prick of needle sharp claws. Eyes screwed shut and a moan building in her throat, she imagined the dull black talons pressed taut against the tender flesh of her neck but not yet breaking through the soft skin. But then he squeezed slightly, a gesture meant to comfort, and the feel of callused human hands rubbing against her bare skin shattered the illusion and drove the image from her mind.  
  
He stepped closer and pulled her into a tight embrace. "Good evening my love." His tender voice, completely devoid of the once familiar guttural growl, spoke close to her ear. His breath, not near as hot or moist as she remembered, brushed a few loose tendrils at the nape of her neck. Plain, thick fingers reached around her, holding a slightly opened rose. The flower looked wilted and dull in his hand as he presented it to her.   
Swallowing a sigh of resignation, Beauty took the proffered bloom then turned in his arms. "Good evening my lord." She looked up into green eyes that had once shown with feral intensity.  
  
"Goodness Beauty," He smiled down at her, showing perfectly spaced, small, white teeth. "Why so formal tonight?" Apprehension added a faint tremor to his voice.  
  
"No reason darling." She echoed the smile. "Just a greeting."  
  
Rugged male features softened in obvious relief. He gave her shoulders one last, all too gentle squeeze then strode over to the fireplace. Her hand gently caressed the petals of the flower as she watched him feed logs and branches to the dwindling flame. His pliant muscles bunched and flexed under a tight linen shirt and snug breeches and a sheen of perspiration sprung up on his brow.  
  
As the fires' intensity grew, its dancing light threw metallic highlights onto the Princes' tawny locks and its glow reflected warmly against honeyed skin. Beauty stared at the image; her husband posed before the flames like a statue from Hellenistic Greece, and felt nothing. She waited, alarm building in the back of her mind, for a stirring in her loins or a quickening of her pulse in response to the blatant display of masculinity before her. Panic spread quickly when the prince removed his shirt after snagging one of the flouncy sleeves on a jagged piece of pine and her body did not respond.  
  
The prince held the shirt at arms length before him and examined the tear. Beauty watched a bead of sweat trickle down a bulging bicep and drip off his elbow and had to squeeze back the tears she felt forming in her eyes. Just as she was about to turn and hurry from the room to hide her quiet crying, the Prince grunted. It was a growling, low noise made in exasperation and directed towards the ripped linen, which caused Beauty's heart to beat a little faster in her chest. He repeated the noise, a little lower in his throat and very animalistic and tossed the garment aside. Beauty felt the throbbing in her chest quicken and her hand clenched suddenly around the bud, crushing it's tender petals. She raised a hand to her face and cupped her mouth in horror.   
  
The prince looked up at her just then and caught the strange reaction. "My Beauty," he questioned, "What is wrong?"  
  
Beauty bit back a gasp and strained to devise an explanation. Miming a yawn, she hurriedly said "Nothing my dearest, I am just a little tired." She performed an exaggerated stretch then slowly approached him. Trying to appear casual she said, "Any news from the village dearest?"  
  
"Yes," he replied brightly, completely accepting her plea of weariness, "In fact love, I have news for you."  
  
"You do?"  
  
"Yes dear." He walked over to a settee near the roaring fire and motioned for her to join him. She complied and he waited until she was settled in under a throw then continued, "I have heard news of your sisters."  
  
"My sisters?" Beauty made no attempt to hide the shock on her face.  
  
"Yes love." He put a companionable arm around her. "I spoke with a merchant on a ship just arrived. He and I shared a mug of ale and he told me of a great scandal at his home port." The princes' voice grew conspiratorial. "I questioned him as to the location, and I could not help but laugh upon finding it was where your sisters had settled.   
  
"He told me that two low born women had caused much consternation and had become the subject of great scorn amongst the nobles of the city. When I pressed for more he advised me that these ladies had attended a function being held in honor of the birth of the Duke's son. Apparently, they acted the complete fools; arriving in outdated fashions, vying desperately for the attentions of every eligible nobleman in the city and drinking far too much wine."  
  
"But how," Beauty questioned, "did you know the merchant spoke of my sisters?"  
  
"Ah," the prince smiled, "because while these ladies were boasting to prospective husbands, one of them lamented, rather loudly, about a younger sister who had run off and gotten involved with a monster in an enchanted castle." The prince gave a sheepish smile. "Of course none of the guests believed the tale and the ladies were laughed right out of the gala." He finished with a chuckle.  
  
"Oh, my poor, dear sisters."  
  
"Poor dear sisters?" He echoed, scoffing. "Those two nags did nothing but torment and harass you from birth. They were jealous, conniving harlots who would have liked nothing better than to have had you get eaten by a raging beast!" He gesticulated wildly, "Why would you care what happens to them?"  
  
"Love," she laid a placating hand on his arm, "They are the only family I have left. With my father gone, I've no one else in the world to call family."  
The prince looked hurt, "What am I then?"  
  
"You are my husband and also my family." She assured him, "But you are gone so often to the village, and I am alone so much. It makes me remember how lonely I felt with my father's death. And, yes, it even makes me miss my sisters."  
  
The prince sighed in satisfied, "I understand." He gave her shoulder a tender squeeze, "I am sorry to leave you alone so often love. But I have my business ventures to look after." He tilted her chin up so their gazes met, "I promise I'll try to spend more time here with you. There, does that make you happy?"  
  
The desperately hopeful expression on his face prompted Beauty's hasty "Yes dear," reply.   
  
"How is your shipping business doing dear?" Beauty questioned to change the subject, "Has the foul weather affected travel?" and settled in for his lengthy response.  
  
*******  
  
Beauty listened to the Prince drone on for a long while about his various pursuits and feigned interest. When an attenuated silence fell between them, she excused herself, saying she was tired and would retire to bed. As she walked out of the sitting room and up the parlor stairs, she cast a backward glance at her husband. He had leaned forward in the settee to take hold of an iron poker and was using it to stoke the fire. Beauty sighed deeply with regret at the lack of desire she knew she should feel, then turned sadly and went up the stairs, the mangled rose still hanging limply in her hand.   
  
*******  
  
The tassels on the heavy velvet curtains of the canopy bed quivered as the prince slowly made his way across the satin sheets to lay next to Beauty. She listened to his uneven breathing in the darkness and felt his restless movements. He lay next to her for many long minutes before she finally turned to him and reached out a questing hand to find and touch his face. "Something the matter my lord?"  
  
"Nay love. Just restless." Using his fingertips he traced the line of her arm back to her shoulder and slowly began to rub her cheek and neck. When she did not protest he put his hand on the small of her back and pulled her close too him. She could feel the lines of his nude body and his need pressed hard against her thigh through the thin fabric of her nightclothes. He placed chaste kisses on her cheeks while his hands roamed softly over her body. Deft fingers untied the laces of her silk chemise while he continued the rain of gentle kisses.   
  
He peeled away the delicate garment, and tossed it aside, then rolled over top of Beauty and held himself above her with a strong arm. One hand cupped and fondled a full breast while he adroitly used a knee to drive a wedge between her legs and force them open. Beauty relented and let her legs fall to the sides. He moaned at the invitation and his manhood pressed against her then slowly entered, retreated and entered again. He continued with rocking thrusts as Beauty lay back against the pillows. Her hands lazily caressed his back while she stifled a yawn. Eyes closed, she made little pleasured noises and waited for him to reach his grunting climax.   
  
He found his release after a few labored minutes, then collapsed heavily on his side next to Beauty, his breathing ragged. The prince's sweat slicked her skin and she felt a chill tingle along her belly at a gust of his exhaled breath. She rolled away from him and reached for her hastily discarded nightgown. With the chemise secured and smoothed over her hips, she pulled a generous down-filled comforter over her and snuggled deeply in it voluminous folds. The prince leaned over and placed a final kiss on her cheek then turned over and fell heavily against his pillow.  
  
She lay in the darkness once again listening to the noises of her prince echo quietly in the darkness. His light, wheezing snore told her that he had succumbed quickly to the powerful call of sleep. She closed her eyes again and fought to join him in slumber. Instead, images and stray feelings wormed their way into her mind as it forced her to recall their first night together.   
  
The prince had only been changed from beast to human for a day and a half and they had not yet been married but Beauty's physical need outweighed morality. She had called him into her bedroom on some trifling errand. He came to her quickly, still dressed in the unkempt shirt worn so often by the beast and clutching a hastily arranged bouquet of roses. The shirt hung loosely on his manly frame but she had reveled in the sight of it and the animal scent that still clung to its ragged sleeves. The prince kissed her when she asked him too and in her naivete had thought to only go that far.   
  
Beauty's innocent mind had misjudged the driving urgency of the prince's lust, still fueled by primal instinct. After tasting her sweet lips he could not pull himself away; the tender touch of lovers lips soon transformed to savage mauling. Alarmed at first by the ferocity, Beauty struggled against the assault. She pushed at the arms that pinned her to the wall, and pulled her bruised lips away from his ravaging mouth. But the fear soon gave way to an inexplicable satisfaction, and she found strange pleasure in the pain of his erotic attack.   
  
Beauty, lying next to the man that her handsome prince had become, felt a slow heat building in her loins as her mind relived that first, faraway night. She recalled with a quickening pulse the feel of his hands, claw-like as they rent her dress from her shoulders and left long searing scratches down her thighs and back. Mouth dry, she thought back to the ambivalence of agony and gratification as his teeth bit almost hard enough to break the skin. Uncontrollable shivers ran through her as she remembered the rough feel of his tongue, as he tasted her entire body. She had only cried out once from discomfort when his teeth slid sharply across a nipple already abraded by rough hands. The prince's only acknowledgement of the sound had been to slow the pace of his brutal onslaught. But he did not stop.  
  
The prince, more beast than man and deep within his battle madness, had thrown her roughly to the bed on top of the discarded flowers. He stopped only long enough to remove his breeches, then pounced on her like a lion to its prey. The pain when he finally plunged into her was quickly erased by an all-consuming pleasure. Beauty's memory replayed the violent dance as he took her body to the brink of limits she had not know existed then drove her maddeningly past them. And she could not control the slow rocking of her hips, matching the rhythm in her mind. The ear-splitting roar that echoed through the room as the prince finally released his seed reverberated loudly in her ears. Lost in the reminiscence, Beauty's hand fell limply across her chest and errantly brushed an erect nipple. She bit back a sudden gasp as an overwhelming wave of fulfillment crashed through her body, like an explosion wrapped in honey.   
  
The feeling echoed the euphoria ghosting through her subconscious. Beauty lay awash in its glow for many long minutes before the ebb and tide of sensuality finally washed away. She recalled feeling the same elation on that long ago night, and remembered being so overwhelmed by its power that she was unaware of the prince's quiet sobbing. When she finally registered the soft noise she questioned him, wondering at its source. She remembered also the heartache in his voice as he begged her forgiveness. She could still picture him at the foot of the bed, robed in the tattered remains of the shirt with his head held in his hands and fingers threaded through his damp hair. He had rocked back and forth on his heels while he loudly repented the horror of his actions. The image of the remorseful prince, damning himself and the passion they had shared, seared itself across her brain.  
  
Beauty had tried to reason with him, to make him understand that she felt no shame at his assault. But the prince, wallowing in self-deprecation, cursing the animal so recently a part of him, paid her no heed. He swore a vow to her then, still on his knees on the floor while sweat-mingled tears stained his cheeks; a vow that he would never come to her in a beastly manner again. He promised gentleness and tenderness and care, not the wild abandon of ardor that had overwhelmed him that night. She had held him then, and cradled his head against her swollen breast; and she told him in sweet, forgiving words that she would love him no matter his behavior. Beauty had never regretted words spoken in haste more than those.  
  
Beauty squeezed her eyes shut, forced the thoughts from her head and wrapped herself deeper in the cocoon of blankets. Sleep finally claimed her physically and emotionally drained body, and the last image to cross her mind before dreaming visions took over, was of the princes' expression moments before he emptied himself into her. An expression that had looked suspiciously like one she had long denied ever seeing him wear. An expression she knew could only come from the beast.  
  
*******  
  
The couple slept restlessly through the night; each embroiled in their own web of dreams. The prince amorously caressed a pillow with slumberous ardor and his eyes flicked rapidly beneath closed lids. Beauty, her face contorted in fear, cried out once and then was silent. The dread etching her brow lessened slowly and soon her face relaxed into a beatific smile and a whisper of the word, "Beast," slipped quietly past her lips.  
  
*******  
  
Beauty woke slowly from the lingering depths of slumber. She rubbed the back of a hand across gritty eyelids and cracked them open hesitantly. A searing beam of light angled through a break in the canopy's drapery and left a blinding swatch across the comforter. Its steep angle indicated a morning already blending into afternoon and Beauty groaned at the late hour. She followed the sunbeams path with heavy lidded, rapidly blinking eyes to find that it came to rest on the empty spot beside her. She rolled over to face the pillow and bed covers recently vacated by her prince. She stared at the emptiness for many long minutes, before sat up in the tangled sheets and shoved the curtains aside.  
  
Shading her eyes to the early afternoon suns' brightness, Beauty stood and stretched languorously. Sleep kinked muscles loosened and stiffened joints popped and cracked loudly. She wavered a moment on unsteady legs, then made her way over to a tall armoire. She sorted through gowns and regal dresses until she came to a simple linen frock. Beauty pulled out the well-worn dress and a pair of dusty, old work boots. She dressed in the modest fair and tied a kerchief around her lustrous hair.  
  
After she made her way to the kitchen and ate a quick meal of oatmeal with honey, Beauty donned apron and gloves and went out in the garden to tend to the myriad array of abundantly growing vegetables and flowers. The sun, crept ever higher in the pale blue afternoon sky, and beat down on Beauty as she knelt near a bed of tulips. She wiped a muddied hand across her sweat-beaded brow, leaving dirt smudges in its wake. Wild strands of hair snaked out from under the kerchief and several wisps plastered themselves against her damp cheeks. She worked tirelessly in the midday heat and became so enamored in her task; she did not hear the approaching footsteps.  
  
"Pardon me," A voice sounded out suddenly from behind Beauty. Startled by the break in the quiet, Beauty jumped slightly then stood and spun guiltily to face the speaker.  
  
"Your pardon Milady," The speaker, a short, busty blonde girl of no more than fourteen or fifteen in age, repeated the query. When Beauty nodded the girl continued, "I seek the Mistress of the castle."   
  
Beauty eyed the girl warily then glanced down at her own bedraggled appearance. Dirt clung to her apron and grass stained the knees of her dress. She realized with a start that the girl thought her no more than a servant. She opened her mouth to correct the young woman, then closed it just as quickly. The girl, clearly comfortable with speaking to someone of equal class, would be much more likely to speak candidly if she continued to think of Beauty as a mere servant. Hating herself for the deception but desperate for truth, Beauty replied, "Her Ladyship is not at hand to speak with anyone right now" Awkwardly wrapping her tongue around the low-born speech, she added, "May I be of assistance?"   
  
The girl gave her another cursory glance then said, "Nay Miss. It is your Mistress I need to speak with."  
  
Sensing the girls' recalcitrance, Beauty quickly asked her of news in the village. When the busty youth asked where Beauty was from and why she had never been to the village before, Beauty quickly improvised a story of a sick mother. The two spoke for some time and Beauty could sense the girls' mistrust fading. She plied the girl for more of the local gossip and after a few more minutes of the casual conversation Beauty carefully and in a tone she hoped was neutral, plied the question, "Why seek you my Mistress?"   
  
"You won't tell the Lady of the Castle will you?" Beauty could tell the girl wanted to share her secret. She shook her head vehemently and gestured for the girl to continue. Leaning in conspiratorially the buxom lass replied, "The Master of the house wished me to speak with her." She continued at Beauty's puzzled look, "He bade me seek employment here."  
  
"I do not understand," Beauty replied, still confused, "We are fully staffed."  
  
Smiling, the girl replied, "His Lordship wishes me gone from the home I share with my eldest sister." She gave a knowing wink, "He says that I get underfoot and that I am as yet to young to join them."  
  
"Join them?" Beauty echoed in bewilderment.  
  
"Aye," The girl said, mistaking the cause of Beauty's confusion. "Your lordship is a man of healthy appetite." She giggled coquettishly, "Though I think he jests about my joining the two of them."   
  
Beauty continued to stare in bewilderment at the child.  
  
"Oouuf," the girl sighed and flopped heavily against the retaining wall behind her. "Would that I were old enough to please that man. He is a handsome devil." Another knowing smile creased her pretty features; "My sister speaks of his skill and prowess in the bedchamber." She shot a questioning glance at Beauty. "Have you not known your master in such a way?"  
  
As she struggled to hold back tears of rage, Beauty replied evenly, "Nay. I have not know my lord like that." The element of truth in the statement stung even more than the realization of her husbands' infidelity.  
  
The girl, inaccurately reading her anger as regret, eyed Beauty skeptically, "Perhaps it is your size," she chirped helpfully, "His lordship seems to prefer his women round and willing." She cocked her head thoughtfully, "Mayhaps you are to scrawny."   
  
Nodding dumbly in agreement, Beauty managed a whispered, "I'd always thought the Prince loved m... I mean, my mistress."  
  
"Oh Aye," the girl nodded, "He does. He speaks of her frail beauty and generous heart all the time. It quite vexes my sister to hear him speak of her so. Especially since no one in the village recalls ever seeing her. I've heard most of the women he has bedded talk of her as well. They question her looks and think her disfigured or ill. Most are jealous of the hold she has over the Princes' heart."  
  
"Then why does he stray?" Desperation made the words sound forced.  
  
She shrugged, "She must be too delicate a creature for his needs. Or perhaps she is a cold and unkind lover. Maybe she is ugly or infirm as the gossips say." Throwing her hands up wildly she added, "Who knows with men." A flush and a concerned expression crossed the girl's face suddenly; "You're sure you won't tell this to you mistress will you?" She blurted, "I did not mean to speak so freely and would really like to work in the castle."   
  
Beauty stared coldly at the red-cheeked girl who eyed her hopefully. "Nay," she said, biting off the words carefully, "I will not tell my mistress."  
  
"Thank you," the oblivious girl gushed in relief. She turned to leave, saying "Please tell your mistress that I shall return another time to seek employment here." Then sauntered down the path to the gates with a bounce in her stride.  
  
Beauty watched her, malice burned with fiery intensity in her stormy eyes. Rage, coupled with a sense of nausea burned in the pit of Beauty's stomach as she slowly made her way back to the castle to wait for her Prince's return.  
  
*******  
  
Beauty leaned far out over the high parapet on the castle's tallest tower. Her icy stare scanned the outlying roadway and woods for sign of her returning husband. Dry, but reddened eyes focused intently on a movement several hundred yards to the north. She could dimly make out the prince's pale blue riding coat. With a grim smile slashed across her lips, Beauty went back inside to wait for his arrival.  
  
*******  
  
With lithe quickness the prince dodged out of the way of the vase hurled at him by the raging Beauty. He flinched as it smashed against the wall behind him and tumbled in shards to the floor with crisp, tinkling sounds. He risked a glance at Beauty and saw her reach for another piece of decorative stoneware. Holding up a placating hand he sputtered, "Love, listen to me. Please let me explain."  
  
"Love," she screeched at him, "I'm no more your love than half of the hussies over in town." Hefting the weighty piece of crockery she went on, "How dare you offer up the admission of your infidelity then seem surprised, nay shocked, when I become enraged." The dish hurtled past his face and exploded against the wall to fall into the growing pile left behind by its predecessors. "I come to you at a time when no other human being would deign to remain in your presence. I cared for you and offered myself to you despite my fear. And I grew to love you." Her anger dissipated, she slumped to the floor. A forgotten piece of pottery slipped from her loose grasp and bounced without breaking to the marble tile next to her.  
  
"And then you changed." Bitterness welled with the tears that rimmed her eyes, "My love changed you from a kind caring animal," she snorted at the last "into a noble prince." A partial laugh that was more a sob escaped her lips and she slowly rose from the floor. "My noble prince." Her voice had a sharp cruel edge, "Ironic is it not?" She took several deliberate steps towards him, smiling even as tears dripped down her lips, "That as a beast you were more of a prince and as a man you are more of a monster."  
  
The prince started visibly. He moved forward, then stopped and reached for Beauty haltingly, then dropped his hands to his sides. With a heaving sigh he said, "You are right my love. I owe all that I am to you. You gave me your life and your freedom and your heart. Yet unfortunately, or perhaps pitifully, I cannot offer you the same concession." He ran a hand through his tousled hair, "I had never known love before you. But now that I have experienced the wonders of it, I cannot ignore that." His hands clenched before him, grasping at the feelings he tried to express, "What is so wrong with wanting love?" he pleaded.  
  
"You mistake love for lust." She shot back at him angrily. "The only need you know is in your loins."  
  
"Perhaps." He admitted with a guilty head bob, "But the need I feel is in my heart as well. I do love you Beauty, more than even I can comprehend. But my heart holds room for so many. Should I deny others love, the same way I was denied for so very long? What right have I to do such a thing?"  
  
Beauty said nothing as her eyes focused distantly at the floor. The prince reached forward to gently cup her tearstained cheek. "As one who has know the shame and agony of not being loved, you must understand how it pains me to see another person suffer the same fate. Especially when I could give them that love." His thumb brushed a chill tear from her lips. "I am sorry Beauty. Forgive Me?"  
  
A heavy silent moment passed, then Beauty reached to cover the hand that held her face with her own delicate white palm. She sighed resignedly and forced a receptive expression. Then she smiled up at him hesitantly, her face pronouncing her acceptance without words, and she could feel his joy beam like sunlight on her face. "I do understand." She said at last, a little sadly "And I do forgive you". With a whoop of delight the oblivious prince swept Beauty up in his strong arms and gleefully spun her in circles, his laughter echoing through the marble halls. He twirled until his balance became unsteady and his grip on Beauty tenuous, then stood on wobbling legs letting the spiraling of the room cease still holding Beauty tightly to his chest.   
  
Staring down at her tenderly he said breathlessly, "Thank you my dearest. For showing me the wonders of love and for understanding my need to show others." A curious little smile, Beauty's only response, flicked across her lips. The prince placed a dainty kiss on her forehead then gently set her back on her feet.  
  
He gave her one last roguish grin before turning to leave. She watched him saunter across the room, waiting until he reached the arched doorway before calling after him, "My Prince," he turned back to face her, barely hiding a self satisfied smile, "Remember this one thing." He cocked his head in question, like a dog might when whistled at, and for a moment the painfully familiar gesture held Beauty's tongue. She blinked furiously to clear the image in her mind superimposing itself over the face of her prince, and hurriedly went on, "They may love you now, as you are. But only I loved you as the Beast." She spun on one heel and rushed out of the room. The prince, a quizzical expression twisting his handsome features, stared after her for a long moment before exiting the room.  
  
*******  
  
Beauty crept quietly along the dark corridor. Though still several hours until dawn, she did not wish to disturb any of the sleeping servants. She stole past the kitchens, where even the cook and her scullery maid were asleep on pallets, the former snoring loudly. She continued to sneak until she reached a small door, which led to the castle garden. With deliberate care she opened the wooden door and cringed when it squealed slightly on rusted hinges. She paused and listened for signs of stirring. Hearing none, she drew the door open far enough to squeeze through. Then she slipped outside, pulled the door carefully shut behind her, and was off into the night.  
  
*******  
  
Beauty ran. Her feet found scant footing in the inky darkness as she stumbled away from the castle grounds, yet she continued. The tangling fingers of bramble and bushes, no more than mere dim blurs in the moonless night, caught at her heavy cloak, dragging her back. She pushed on. Through the dense woods that had once seemed a safe and natural barrier to the outside world, that now threatened to keep her prisoner, she fled.  
  
Her Lungs heaved and her throat burned as she collapsed at the furthest edge of the dense forest, onto the soft loam of forest floor. Night still hung heavy overhead, but she could sense the sun was not far off. She had hoped to put more distance between herself and the castle by sunrise. She lay on the musty ground only long enough to let her racing heart slow and to catch her breath, then with renewed resolve, Beauty pushed onwards. The need to flee as fast and as far from the hurt and heartache as possible driving her every step and overshadowed the exhaustion. She tore away layers of her heavy skirts as she stumbled out of the dark forest, and her woolen cloak lay discarded many miles back. The woods gave way to meadow, and then a winding stream. She dragged her feet and followed the course of the stream as it meandered through the lush valley, then twisted around a small copse of trees. The sun had peeked out from behind a thick blanket of clouds several hours before, and dissipated the shroud of mist hanging in the meadow. The day began to warm considerably.   
  
A trickle of sweat wended its way down Beauty's neck to the base of her spine, and a wave of dizziness swept over her. Clutching a small poplar tree for balance, she finally allowed her feet to stop their endless run. She wiped at her damp brow, took a fingernails-grip of control on her breathing and stared at the splendor of the grove she stood in. The stream, which had started as a small rivulet, grew into a rushing current, complete with miniscule waterfall. Two ancient oaks, branches laden with leaves and acorns, hung over the running water, creating a cave-like atmosphere. The sun shown through in a myriad of leaf-tinted color, dappling the thick grass.   
  
Beauty sighed; her need to run suddenly forgotten amongst the peace of the grove. She turned to stare back the way she had come, and a small smile turned up the corners of her lips. She could no longer see the high ramparts of the castle walls and parapets outlined against the morning sky. The castle, her pain and the prince were far enough behind her now; far enough that she could finally rest free from the fear of pursuit.  
  
Beauty slumped gratefully down on the soft hillock between the two trees. She leaned over the babbling stream and cupped handfuls of water to her parched mouth, then poured handfuls down her neck and back to cool her sun-baked skin. Her thirst and body quenched, Beauty stared down at her warping reflection, as it rolled and turned with the force of the water. She sighed again. This time the sound had a forlorn echo. The next sigh evolved into a yawn, as the long night of fear and exertion caught up with her. Beauty sat back from the stream and laid her head in the soft carpet of grass under the shade of the guardian oaks. Sleep overcame her quickly, chasing away the images that flickered past her closed lids, and with them the anxiety that held her clenched within it's tight fist.   
  
She slept untroubled for several hours deeply ensconced in fevered dreams. Beauty could remember very little of the dreams when she woke except the pervading scent of spices and wildflowers and eerie music, the likes of which she had never heard. Shaking her head at the muzzy feeling her nap resulted in, Beauty stood slowly. Her sleep stiffened muscles protest, and she fought off the threat of dizziness with noticeable effort. When her head cleared, and she could stand without the aid of the tree trunk, she stared down at the tattered remains of her dress and her scratched arms and legs. She imagined, with much chagrin, the look on the prince's face should he ever see her in such a state. Pushing the rebellious thoughts away, Beauty returned to the stream and drank more of the cool water.   
  
She caught her reflection again, and as she stared at her wavering face, another image began to take shape in the rippling water. Try as she might, Beauty could not make out the picture which formed and dissolved in the water before her. Beauty squinted at the wavering image, and her head began to throb with a rhythmic pulse. She inhaled deeply, and the heady fragrance of herbs and wildflowers seeped into her head. The soothing scent lulled her and her eyelids grew heavy. She blinked, once, then twice to fight the sinking, disconnected feeling.  
  
As the fog in her mind grew thicker, the image which formed in the rippling water grew clearer. It began to take shape. A very solid, lucid shape. Beauty watched from beneath weighted lids as the vision gained solidity and substance. Soon, standing on top of the splashing water before her as if it were solid ground rather than roiling liquid, was a beautiful woman. She wore verdant, pale, gossamer thin robes, and her head was haloed by milky, nearly white hair. She stared down at Beauty, who knelt at the edge of the stream still enamored by the magic that held her.   
  
"You have called," the figure stated in a voice not unlike a bird's song, "And," the word held a note of authority, "I have answered." The mysterious figure stepped across the water to stand in front of Beauty. She held out one willow-wisp slender hand. Beauty stared up at her; fear working it's way into her glazed eyes. Tentatively, and with some effort, she lifted her own limb and took hold of a hand much smaller and cooler than her own. The moment her skin came into contact with the strange woman's, the stupor vanished. Shock brought Beauty to her feet, but her hand stayed linked with the woman's.   
  
"Wh-who..." Beauty stammered. "Who are you?"  
  
"It is you who have called upon me, yet you do not know who I am." The statement was made as both a question and an answer. Beauty, confused by the duality, did not respond. Smiling the woman said, "All you need know is that I am here to help you."  
  
Understanding came suddenly, so Beauty asked instead, "What shall I call you?"  
  
"I have no name that you could comprehend," Beauty frowned, "However, if it shall lesson your discomfort, you may call me Etain." She smiled wryly, "It is a bit vague but roughly translates to your tongue and will suit this occasion well enough."  
  
Etain released Beauty's hand and turned in the direction of the castle. She raised the same hand that had clutched Beauty's and with her palm held out, began to slowly move her arm in circles. The rotations steadily increased in speed and width. Beauty noticed air in the path of the spiraling hand begin to shimmer. Mesmerized, she watched as a circle of nothingness appeared before her eyes.   
  
"I will show you the beginning, and it shall be up to you to decide the end." Etain nodded towards the black disc of space, and suddenly Beauty could see the castle, the rose garden and her prince. Beauty leaned closer to the floating image. "Is it real?" she asked wondrously.  
  
"As real as the looking glass you carried with you for so many years."   
  
As Beauty watched the prince wander among the vibrant blooms she noticed differences in this man from the one she had left behind at the castle. The looking glass prince seemed younger, less sure of himself, and a little angry. Puzzled, she turned to Etain. The ageless woman nodded. "You are seeing him as he was in the past. Before the change came upon him, before he understood love."  
  
"What caused this change?" Beauty wondered, and turned again to watch the man she knew as her husband silently rage in the lush garden.  
  
Etain said simply, "One of my sisters called upon the prince for aid. He denied her. She could not let such a grave insult go unpunished." Beauty's head snapped up to stare in cold fear at the suddenly ominous woman. Etain smiled softly. "Do not fear me Beauty." The words, or the voice that spoke them, held great power and Beauty felt her fear melt away. "The prince was found lacking. The punishment my sibling bestowed upon him was in turn, intended to heal him." She gestured to the pseudo-window. The prince had returned to the castle gate and become aware of a small, simple insect that crawled across the petals of the rose in his hand. A malicious grin slashed across his face as he took the wriggling bug between two thick fingers and crushed it. Beauty frowned. The image, so like yet different from her own prince, confused her.   
  
With a grave sigh, Beauty turned away from the image. Etain wafted her hand across the mirrored disc and it vanished with an audible pop. She placed a cool hand on Beauty's shoulder. "He is no longer the monster he once was," she paused, one brow arched inquisitively, "But perhaps now he is more?"  
  
"I do not know what he has become," Beauty lamented, "Only that he is no longer the prince I once loved." She stared into Etain's luminous eyes and the truth tumbled out in staccato bursts of anguished confession. "I love the Beast," her tremulous voice near tears, "not the man. The beast as he was at the end. Before the change. When he knew only the love we shared." Fearful determination crept into her demeanor as she stated somewhat abashedly, "I want him back."  
  
"It shall be as you request." Etain said simply.  
  
Beauty began to stammer a thank you, but was cut short by Etain, "Be warned however," the voice held an ominous tone, "If your prince does not truly love you, he will curse you for doing this to him." She reached out and cupped a tiny hand around Beauty's cheek. Her sympathetic expression belied the forbidding message. "You must be sure."  
  
"I am." Beauty said with resolve. She closed her eyes and recalled a picture glimpsed through lowered lashes. The wolfish, leonine brute, carnal hunger gleaming in his eyes and teeth bared, as he stood over her in the candlelit bedchamber, and watched her while he thought her asleep. The restrained paw he reached out with to stroke her bare thigh then snatched back. The revulsion in his eyes as he trained the stare on his own furry paws. The anguish in his graveled voice as he damned himself as a monster. "I am," Beauty said again even more firmly as she slowly opened her eyes, "I am so very sure."  
  
"Then it is done."   
  
"Done?"  
  
"Aye Beauty." Etain said as she guided the young woman away from the grove, "Even as I speak, the Prince shall begin to notice the first signs. He may not yet understand what these changes mean, but they are happening none the less." She escorted Beauty to the edge of the copse of trees, then walked slowly backwards towards the water.  
  
*******  
  
Beauty trudged slowly back the way she had come. As she pushed through choking weeds and fought with tangling briar, Beauty also fought to ignore the impending dread in her heart. Her return took almost twice the time as her escape, and she knew that her slow pace was, in part, in response to her growing anxiety. She reached the Castle grounds by dusk, and saw no sign of alarm. Weary and worn, she snuck back into the castle through the seldom-used Garden doorway and made her way to her bedroom, eager to dress and bathe. She would deal with her prince after that.  
  
*******  
  
Beauty watched in fascinated horror as the Prince writhed on the floor his limbs twitching uncontrollably, and she fought the urge to recoil as his fevered moaning mutated in to horrific gasps of pain and terror. Clutching a damp rag in her white-knuckled hand, Beauty slowly approached the convulsing prince. He rolled on the floor; one arm pinned uselessly under his arched back the while the other flopped at his side in repetitive spasms. He looked up at Beauty with desperation gleaming in his eyes. Flecks of spittle gathered at the corners of his lips and on his chin as he mouthed the words, "Help me."   
  
Biting back a cry of her own, Beauty ran to him and knelt beside his contorting body. She pulled his heavy dead weight onto her lap and tried to hold him steady through the fit. She pressed the damp cloth to his head and brushed his unruly hair from his eyes. When the seizures had slowed slightly, he stared up at Beauty again and she could see the differences already becoming apparent in his eyes. The flecks of gold that shot through forest green grew more pronounced as his pupil slowly increased in verticality. Beauty gazed into those eyes, which seemed more and more familiar with each passing minute, which pleaded with her for answers.  
  
"What is happening to me?" He managed to pant before another paroxysmal wave overtook him.  
  
"You're changing love." Beauty told him tenderly.  
  
Protruding teeth hindering his speech even further, the prince choked out, "Why?" The despondency on his face a pale echo to the torturous despair in his ragged voice.  
  
Choked up by the confusion and fear she saw and heard, Beauty could only clutch the prince tighter to her chest and mutter "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." into his mane of tawny hair.  
  
Through the veil of pain and horror, the prince heard the distinct edge of guilt in Beauty's voice. He gathered all the reserved strength he could muster and pushed himself away from her then stood on shaky legs. Gaping at his elongated fingers and thickening arms he turned an outraged glare at Beauty.  
  
"You did this to me?" He growled in confusion. "You caused this to happen?"  
  
Still sitting on the floor, Beauty could only gaze up at his morphing form with slow rivulets of tears coursing their way down pale cheeks. He grabbed her roughly by the shoulders and hauled her to her feet. His fingers dug cruelly into tender flesh as he repeated the question over and over and each repetition became more of an accusation.   
  
Beauty listened to the litany as he shook her. Finally, afraid her neck might snap from the force of his shaking, she managed a faint nod. Eyes wide with pain and shock, the prince shoved her roughly aside and let loose with a bellowing scream of denial. He staggered across the room then whipped around to face Beauty, who still stood where the prince's shove had left her.   
  
"How could you..." The force of his tone made Beauty jump and she watched with convicted eyes as he gestured to the lengthening fur and ebon horns slowly protruding from his head, "how could you do this to me? This!" He yanked out a shock of the pelt and held out to her, "I loved you." Another severe spasm rocked his changing body and he stumbled to the floor. He looked up at her in the midst of the throes of transformation and mouthed "Why?"  
  
Impassively, Beauty approached him. She waited until the paroxysm abated and the prince knelt on the floor panting to catch his breath. She cocked her head and watched him gather himself. He stood slowly and faced her with a deliberate expression of wrath. Wearing a mask of bravery she did not feel, Beauty approached closer still. She stood only a few feet from his twitching form and with a ragged breath said, "You never loved me."   
  
Primitive eyes widened at the accusation and the man-beast took a threatening step forwards. Beauty held up a hand to stop his approach. "Don't try to deny it," she whispered with barely contained dignity, "You loved what I did for you, but you never loved me."  
  
The prince bared teeth that narrowed into sharp points and lunged at her. His attack pushed them both up to the castle wall where he pinned her shoulders to the cold stone. His hot breath steamed on her face and neck as he panted, "How could you deny my love? How?"  
Beauty did not respond.  
  
"Everything I have done since the day your father stole into my garden and tried to do off with one of my prize roses has been for you." He paused as a fit of pain overtook him, gritting his teeth against the agony, then went on when it passed, "I knew, when your father spoke of your beauty and compassion, that you were the person destined to love me. To make me whole again." His eyes pleaded with hers, "How could you say that I do not love you?"  
  
"I loved you. That much is correct and cannot be denied else you would never have changed." Beauty looked away from his searching gaze, "But, I loved something you have not been for a long while."  
  
"But I love you."   
  
Beauty looked back up at the Prince with a malicious glare, "The only thing you know of love is the pleasure you receive between the legs of half the women in the village. You know nothing of real love."   
  
The prince roared at her words, pushed away from her angrily, and bounced her lithe frame off the granite wall. He stalked to the other side of the chamber and his booming voice echoed back to her, "At least they are warm and willing when I come to them. Unlike you." Beauty jerked as if struck, "They love me for the attention I show them. And they will love me still."  
  
Still stinging from the harsh words, Beauty countered, "Love you? Ha! Look at yourself, you are a monster. They will not love you. They will run from you in loathing and fear." She stood proudly despite the tear tracks on her cheeks and welts which formed on her neck and shoulders and declared, "I was the only person who would ever love you as you were and are. I would have continued to give you all the affection I could ever know. But you took that love and brushed it aside for your afternoon romps."   
  
Defeated and weary, Beauty turned away from the Prince, now more beast than man, and with a final "I would have and will always love you no matter what." She made a hasty retreat from the room.   
  
A mournful howl of pain and confusion followed her as she ran out of the castle.   
  
*******  
  
Fighting against the debilitating effects of the changes, the prince staggered to the tower and up the steps. He reached a room at the top and tore open the shutters. Out in the dim moonless night, he could make out the fleeing form of Beauty. His preternatural sight showed him clearly what a normal man would not have seen. Almost fully transformed now, the prince remembered his enhanced senses and using memories he had thought long gone, he sniffed the night air and caught her scent. She ran still, but he was stronger and faster now, his stamina that of a wolf or lion. He waited a short while, for final waves of the change to abate. Then, fully animal, he charged out into the night after her. She would not escape.  
  
*******  
  
A light drizzle misted Beauty as she huddled in her damp cloak by the edge of the crooked stream. Tears glistened almost unnoticed in the gently falling rain. She gazed forlornly at her warping reflection in the burbling water. "I should never have done such a terrible thing." She turned away from the accusation that reflected back at her. "What right did I have?" her strained voice cried to the surrounding wood, "What right?" she demanded of a presence who no longer listened to her plea.  
  
"Every right." A voice answered where Beauty expected none. Startled, she turned towards the achingly familiar voice, and her eyes widened at the sight before her. The beast, dressed in tattered finery, his rain slicked fur and dully gleaming horns dripping; leaves and bits of branch and twigs tangled in his thick mane, stood looming and powerful only a few feet away. Grasped in a massive paw and looking tiny and fragile amidst the claw tipped fingers, he offered her a rose plucked from the garden in full glory. He took an unsteady step towards her, and seemed clumsy on huge leonine feet, his wolfish tail flicked rapidly from side to side for balance. His deep and throaty voice stuttered slightly over the long canines as he said, "As the only person who truly loved me. As the only person to show me what I really am." He extended the carmine blossom and she took it from him brought the lush bloom up to her face and inhaled its heady fragrance. "You had every right." He said with growling finality.  
  
The beast reached out again with the massive paw like hand and encircled her wrist gently. Ebony claws pressed lightly against the sensitive inner wrist and Beauty shivered at the sensation. The grip tightened as he pulled her close to his massive chest and encircled her with supple, muscled limbs. She inhaled the dizzying myriad of his musky scent mingled with the pungent odors of the forest and the sweet cloying fragrance of the rose.   
  
The beast stared down at her intently until she looked up and met his gaze. Eyes like a leafy, verdant forest stared down at her with burning intensity and she could read the uncertainty in them. Bushy brows raised and pleading eyes asked a question he could not vocalize. Beauty smiled in perfect understanding and reached up to pull his head down to hers. She placed a light kiss on his soft muzzle and rubbed her cheek against the velvet fur.   
  
She glanced into his eyes again, and saw that hesitancy and doubt still lingered in their ferine depths. Biting back a sigh of frustration, Beauty moved against him slowly, feeling the odd sensation of fur against her flesh, and kept her eyes locked on his. She watched, while her body massaged itself against his, and saw the concern become understanding, and the understanding become need. She nodded anxiously then bit her lip to hold back a fervent cry as his hands tightened their grip and his teeth found her neck.  
  
And the rose, mist beaded on its petals from the light rain, slipped from her fingers, which sought to wend there way into tangled fur, and landed lightly on the damp ground. Forgotten.  
  
  
  
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Ravage, R. Schroeder. Page of 42 


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